Chronicles From The Future Novels & Stories

"Let's sit, shall we?" They moved over to the chairs, Miles bringing up the rear, giving way to the older men. He knew he should be paying attention to what the others discussed—it would be his business one day after all—but he really didn't have any interest in the affairs of their businesses or the merger they discussed. There was plenty of time to wait on being burdened with such mundane things. Only one merger interested him, the one where he could merge his body with that of Lainie Everest. It was a major step above watching videos in his bedroom when his parents went to sleep.

“Why would we—” Xian glared at him. “Sure. The artifact, Fantasy Clock, was made by the God of Memories and Time. The god created the artifact and was named "Chaos Clock" at first. Technically, this artifact was used to banish someone. The god used its power to combine memories and time. The memories from the past that you wanted to forget will start appearing one by one and destroy you. It can either destroy you, or give you lesson. I got this information from our Master before. To fix the chaos, you have to accept that everything happenofrom the past cannot be changed. You have to overcome everything so that you can come out alive. When you overcome it, you have to choose one award. One, y

"Within these pages lie the chronicles of forgotten epochs." As they explored the library, the heroes' hands brushed against parchment, sending ripples of images and emotions. They glimpsed battles waged for the realm's harmony, alliances formed against encroaching darkness, and the sacrifices made to safeguard the threads of fate. Valen's eyes widened as he read a particularly old scroll. "This speaks of a convergence of echoes – a moment when past, present, and future intersect."

---Merida’s POV--- And here I thought I asked a simple question. No, he just told me he was a mixed Alien human… *Wait he said Crustalia planet, not Crysthalle islands or even of earth. He was born in space. So…* I thought loudly not really thinking of everyone who could be listening in. I just wasn’t sure how to say it. “Meri all pure-blooded Crysthalian’s are in fact aliens of earth and cannot be actually aged in today’s standards.” Crispin says as he appears at the doorway to the living room.

Like we were the only ones in the world and nothing else mattered. Once I did fall asleep, I had the oddest dreams. Deacon was always there though. It was like we were running through a timeline every time I turned to look at him. He looked younger in some and in one we were both elderly sitting together on a porch. Others we were young enough to be in the 5th grade. Our clothes were odd and our accents were always different I even spoke different languages. But I always knew what I was saying to him and vice versa. He always had a look of love in his eyes..no natter what.

Let's hope they stay on their current path. Are you ready for Ashrac all grown up? END OF PART FOUR

“I am Chronos, of the Temporal Collective,” the figure said, bowing slightly. “I come with urgent warning. Your reality is experiencing time fractures. If not addressed immediately, your entire dimension will split into infinite parallel timelines, each one weaker than the last.” “How did you get past our security?” Kai demanded, already moving to position himself between the stranger and his family.

The Legacy stood fully awakened. Its silver consciousness stretched across the world. Technology advanced beyond imagination. Disease disappeared. Wars ended. Knowledge flowed freely. Humanity flourished. At first. Then slowly... People stopped making their own choices. Their memories merged. Individuality faded. Smiles became identical. Voices became one. Billions of lives. One consciousness. One will. The vision ended. The crimson Zevarion spoke. "The future if you choose the crimson path." Victor stared in horror. "So..." He looked around.

Her husband exhales—or the ghost of one—against her spectral neck. "Look." A great-granddaughter now, midwife hands slick with afterbirth, lifting a newborn whose eyes open too soon. The infant grips her finger. Doesn't let go. Cities rise. Wars burn. Their blood spreads like floodwater, indistinguishable from the rest until it's too late to dam. A soldier walks away from shrapnel unharmed. A woman survives a fall from a fifth-story window. Sarah touches the scar that isn't there anymore. "We changed them."

I screamed, lunging toward him. "Mother, look at the floor!" Leo’s voice was a frantic, indigo-shaking shout. My son was kneeling at the base of the spire, his indigo runes scrolling through a series of red "FUTURE-DEBT" warnings. The floor of the Fifth Layer was not made of stone; it was made of Projected Time. I saw images of the Thirtieth Cycle, the Fiftieth, the One-Hundredth. And in every one, Leo was standing as the Lone Administrator, his eyes silver, his heart a clock of salt.